Borrowed Time
by DJRyce
Summary: Sawyer and Kate's relationship immediately after Catch22. Originally written as a oneshot, broken into chapters for convenience. Warning: there are graphic, but hopefully tasteful mature scenes. First Lost fic, all reviews appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Obligatory A/N:** The characters and stories in "Lost" are sole property of ABC, and I am in no way affiliated with them. That being said, after last Wednesday's episode, I was incredibly overwhelmed with the urge to write this story, and in case JJ is reading, I am more than happy to donate this material for the greater good-- namely to keep one of TV's most beloved, star-crossed couples together.

* * *

"You don't have to use me. All you have to do is ask." 

_Sawyer, you dumbshit!!_

And there it was. He regretted it as soon as he said it. But he couldn't show it, not to her. So he smiled his scoundrel smile, tilting his head slightly before turning around and heading back to his tent.

He collapsed onto his pallet, stuffing his face into the pillow to stifle a scream while he pounded his fist into the sand.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

Ironically, with his face buried in the pillow, he was able to catch a hint of her fragrance from the night before. His shoulders sagged defeatedly before he rolled onto his back to stare at the tarp of his ceiling and dwell. Why he said that to her, he had no idea. Pretty much, by revealing that he knew, he had effectively shattered any possibility of ever being with her again. As long as he played dumb, there was the slightest chance that he could have held on to her, just for a little while longer. There was the chance that she would come back to him one more time, and once again he could pretend to not notice that the whole time her eyes remained tightly closed, pretending. Ignore the salty taste of dried tears when he kissed her. Revel in her fiery passion as she unleashed the heat of her jealousy and frustrations on him.

Now? He had lost her, completely.

XxXxXxX

"You don't have to use me. All you have to do is ask."

And there it was. She had sought his solace out of desperation, loneliness, bitterness. She was feeling insecure, pathetic, and wanting to do something destructive. And he had seen right through her.

She watched his retreating figure head back to his tent, and looked at her hands absently, her eyes falling on the tape. "Best of Phil Collins." Of all the people on this island, he was the last one she ever thought would make her feel so… ashamed. She used to be disgusted by her feelings for him. She swore never to act on them. But it wasn't because she slept with him….twice. It wasn't even because she shared herself with him more than anybody else on the island. It was because after all these months, she had finally convinced herself that she was better than they all thought—mama, the marshal, Wayne. Here, she thought she could redeem herself. Prove that there was something good in her.

But it was all a farce. Deep down, she knew she still wasn't any better. Now he knew, too.

* * *

The next afternoon, Jack took Juliet to their makeshift driving range. He wanted to give her the "grand tour." They waved as they walked past her, grinning with their full water bottles and daypacks. As soon as their backs were to her, she scowled. 

_Sickening_.

Immediately, it came back. That primal, petty, illogical feeling that she felt growing from the pit of her stomach. It wasn't lust necessarily, as much as a savage desire to completely detach herself from any thought or emotion. She wanted to succumb to the baseness she knew was always lurking within her. Blindly embrace it—the selfishness, the insensitivity. It was horrible, she knew. And yet, she couldn't help but wonder, either. Was the opportunity still there?

She looked over, and there he was, sitting shirtless on his lounge chair, reading. It was always comical to see him read. He lost his "prescription" glasses on the raft, so with this new pair, he had to hold the book somewhat far away. For a split second, the way he was peering over the lenses made him almost look scholarly. She quickly shook that thought away. No thought. Just pure, unadulterated, thoughtless... what?

She didn't know what exactly she wanted to get out of it. There was the immediate carnal satisfaction of course. For a few glorious minutes she could forget about anything else. But beyond that? She shook her head as she begin to make her away across the sand. Whatever, she didn't have to think that far ahead. No thought.

Still, when she plopped down next to him, she couldn't help but feel a small tinge of… something. She caught a glimpse of the cover: _The Sorrows of Young Werther_. It made her hesitate.

"Afternoon, Freckles." He turned the page without looking up.

She exhaled, steeling herself.

"Sawyer?" Her voice came out higher and more desperate than she had expected.

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip, reluctant to continue. _I am the single most, awful person in the world_.

After a few excruciating seconds, he set his book down and looked at her for the first time. The downcast eyes, the crinkled nose.

"Freckles? What's wrong?" He looked at her imploringly. Concerned. Genuine.

With the intensity of his gaze, she found herself feeling incredibly vulnerable. She stared at her fists.

"I…" She shut her eyes tightly, disbelieving that she was actually going to ask what she was going to ask.

"What is it?" He pressed her, lowering his head as to look into her eyes again.

"I was wondering…" She braced herself. He was going to think she was the most despicable person in the world. And yet, she continued slowly, "If you…meant…what you said yesterday."

She never once removed her gaze from her hands. "What'd I…"His brow furrowed as he tried to recall what he could have said yesterday. _She doesn't mean…_ There was really only one thing he said to her yesterday. "Well yeah, Freckles… yeah, I meant it… why?"

She finally looked up at him, unwavering. With purpose. "Are you really going to make me ask?"

Slowly, he began to realize what she was getting at. He was in disbelief. _She came back. _"You mean you wanna…"

Her nostrils flared slightly as she looked at him defiantly.

"What…now?!" His eyes widened incredulously.

She nodded, impatiently, almost annoyed.

He snapped to attention immediately, so fearful of losing her. A small part of him couldn't believe how lucky he was. Another part of him was resentful for being so weak and desperate that he would willingly let himself be hurt, just to have another excuse to be near her. But mostly, he was just terrified that maybe this time was going to be the last time she would have him. He glanced around nervously before taking her hand and leading her into his tent.

* * *

Inside, she positioned herself on his stomach, tearing off his glasses. "You remember the rules from last time?" 

"Yeah, but-" She cut him off by pressing her lips sloppily on his.

"Same thing," Still kissing him, she roughly began to slip off her jacket and unbutton his pants. She broke away only long enough to peel off her tank top.

She fumbled with her own jeans as she tried to pull them off while keeping her lips in contact with him. His lips, cheeks, neck, chest. As long as she was touching him.

He had a surprisingly gentle touch. She could feel the strength of his grip as he held her, sense the tautness of his muscles, the callousness of his fingers. And yet, his fingertips grazed her with the lightest of caresses, setting her own skin afire with a trail of goosebumps. She knew he was holding back, having experienced the pure hot-blooded, ferocity of his passion that one fateful night in the cage. But here, these last two times he didn't fight her. No matter how violently she scratched and bit him, he responded with only the softest of kisses and strokes.

Tender. Sensual. Infuriating. She wanted a reaction from him. She wanted him to fight back, just as a way she could excuse her own behavior. To know that he was no better than she was. But he never did. She was using him, and he was letting her. On some level she was grateful. She was in control, and he was willingly at her mercy—just like she wanted. Throughout, her eyes were pinched shut, but she took pleasure in hearing the reactions she could elicit from him. Aside from occasional low guttural moaning, he abided by her request and didn't say a word. Several times, she could hear him struggle to keep himself from crying out. She even heard the beginnings of her name, but the "kuh"s quickly dissolved into short, quiet gasps. He was giving her exactly what she asked for, exactly what she needed. No more, no less.

XxXxXxX

It took a great deal of self-control for him to hold back the way he did. Even though she was being physically aggressive, he knew she was just trying to cover her own broken feelings. All the roughness, the hitting, the biting, he knew that wasn't intended for him. Not really. He was just that pillow that you scream silently into at night. That knot in the wall you hit when you want to feel pain. And he was happy to serve his role.

She was so delicate, so fragile, the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel like he was taking advantage. No, he was only doing this for her. Giving her the comfort and compassion the only way he knew how. How much he wanted to just take her in his arms, show her how much he truly felt for her. To make her feel as euphoric and special as she made him feel. He had to physically restrain himself from smothering her with kisses and promises, because that's not what she wanted. At least, not from _him_. He could deal with that.

When it was over, they lay together silently, not really knowing what to say. He didn't force anything. He just lay behind her quietly, lightly running a knuckle back and forth on the curvy dip of her waist. Abruptly, she sat up and quickly began pulling her clothing back on. She never turned around to look back at him. He could only look on as she scrambled to put up her hair and slip on her shoes.

She didn't say a word to him as she proceeded to exit the tent. Before she got the flap, however, he called out to her. She stopped.

"Freckles… Kate. Y'know… y'know you don't always haveta…leave, right?"

She knew it was hard for him to ask that, just as it was hard for her to say no. "Not today, Sawyer."

She paused to swallow before looking back and flashing a small smile. "Maybe next time."

With that, she was gone. Leaving a very naked, very confused Sawyer, who was having a hard time digesting one thought: _Next time??? _


	2. Chapter 2

As it turns out, "next time" was much sooner than he ever would have thought or hoped. That night, while he was asleep, he sensed a rustling as somebody was approaching his tent. Instinctively, still half-asleep, his fingers tightened around the gun he kept under his pillow.

Groggily he began to stir. "Whoizzat?"

"Sawyer, it's me."

"Wha… Freckles?" He woke up considerably at hearing her voice. It was dark, but as she pulled back the flap of his tent, he could make out the outline of her figure in the moonlight.

"Yeah, it's me. Sorry, did I wake you?"

He was secretly thankful that it was dark, otherwise she would have seen him roll his eyes in a "duh" expression.

"Nah, I was up anyway… just workin' on my taxes." That was the first sarcastic comment that popped into his head. He was a little disappointed with it, but he was a tired.

She shrugged nonchalantly, satisfied with the answer as she snuggled her body against his.

"I couldn't sleep. You mind if I hang out here a while?"

Again, if it weren't so dark, she would have seen his expression of complete and utter confusion, mixed with the slightest bit of panic. "Uh yeah… sure. Waddya wanna do?"

His heart began pounding rapidly in his chest, and involuntarily he felt a dull throb underneath his sheets. _Surely not…_

Kate arched an eyebrow as she rolled over to face him. "Sawyer… are you naked?"

He grinned unabashedly, his teeth glinting faintly. "This is _my_ tent, Freckles."

She felt a warmth spread through her cheeks, and it made her smile. She rolled over, making sure to keep the sheet as a barrier between their bodies. She blindly stuck out her hand somewhere near where figured his face might be and lunged forward.

"OW! Sonnuvabitch! That was my eye!" She felt him flinch back, and she had to stifle a giggle.

"Sorry!!" She reached again, lighter this time, until she found his skin. She ran her hand down his defined jaw, feeling his rough stubble against her palm. She started stroking his cheek with her thumb gently, soothingly. Her fingers twined in his long hair. She repeated, softer this time. "I'm sorry."

She felt the weight of his head go slack as he relaxed. There were a few moments of silence, in which she could almost hear the gears whirring in his head. "Mmm… so what's goin' on, Freckles?"

The sincerity of his question caught her off guard. For a moment she panicked, unsure of how to answer. Resignedly, she decided to match his honesty. "I was feeling kinda lonely in my tent, and I was wondering…" She caught an intake of breath, unsure of how to continue. She let the sentence drop, anticipating some snide, innuendoed remark.

She gasped at the suddenness of her chin, cradled in his strong hands. She could feel his breath against her face as he leaned in. Although she couldn't see, she could feel the heat of his gaze on hers. She heard the slow, baritone register of his voice drawl, "Mi casa es su casa. Always, Freckles." Although she couldn't see it, she could feel his warm smile.

His hand lingered on her face as he slumped back onto the pillow. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Ya don't even haveta ask."

_That was it? No dirty double entendre? _Moreover, there was no sign of judgment or admonishment in his voice. There were no indicators that she would "owe" him later, or that he thought any less of her for asking. He didn't try anything, didn't imply anything. It was simple, matter-of-fact. And she was dumbfounded.

Tentatively, unsure of what else she could do, she carefully laid her cheek against his broad chest. "Thank you James," she whispered.

She could hear his heartbeat quicken as he heard his real name, but he remained silence. She wondered if he had a reaction everytime she used this name. Slowly, lulled by the rise and fall of his breath, she drifted off into dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next few days, they spent a fair bit of time together. He duly took note that the good doctor and Juliet, were also spending an increasing amount of time together. He knew she just needed him for distraction, and he was happy to oblige. They kept eachother company doing the most mundane island activities—hanging laundry, refilling the water gourds, or playing the occasional game of ping-pong. He would tell her stories about some of his college antics, mostly true, and make her laugh. He'd still make racy, suggestive comments to her, but never acted on them. Once in a while, she would reveal some little tidbits of her life as well. He started calling her "Austen" whenever the two of them were alone. It was a sort of reciprocity for "James." She said that only her mom called her "Katherine," but he found Austen a much more fitting endearment anyway. He said that he had fond memories of the city.

On some nights, she'd sneak back into his tent to sleep. Sometimes they'd talk. Other times, they'd just lie in silence, enjoying the roar of the ocean lapping against the shore. Sometimes she'd ask him to read to her, and she would fall asleep to the sounds of _Wuthering Heights_. A "chick-book," he called it. Sawyer was sure that the islanders were speculating something much less innocent going on, they never held hands or gave any indication of any relationship beyond platonic.

_Skeezy perverts_.

* * *

One night, the islanders had a bonfire. Apparently it was Korean New Year, and Jin and Sun wanted to celebrate. Jin had pulled out all the stops with the seafood dinner, and Sun had decorated all the tents with some tropical island flowers.

In a corner, Sawyer sat with Desmond, Charlie, and Sayid, where in high-spirits, sharing some Dharma cookies and past experiences. Ever since the boarhunt, he'd come to really like Desmond. The Scotsman was a little rougher around the edges, but he could hold his liquor, and it made Sawyer feel a little less alone. Charlie was still a little annoying, and personally, Sawyer was convinced that he'd never seen a naked woman. Still, since that little staged incident with Sun, he was beginning to appreciate the kid a little more.

Finally, although Sawyer would never admit it, since their shared disdain for Juliet, he was beginning to warm up to the Iraqi.

Desmond was telling them how he got kicked out of the monastery, and Sawyer was laughing particularly hard because stealing booze from a winery was exactly something he would do. He was about to interrupt with his own tale, when he looked up, and saw Kate quickly retreating from a cluster of women surrounding Claire and Aaron, who was apparently his "cute" phase.

Concerned, he glanced around to see what could have upset her. _Bingo_. There, at the edge of the bonfire, Jack and Juliet were sharing a log, feeding eachother some of Jin's little individual sushi bites. The doctor was laughing and teasing as he would make a motion to feed her, only to pull it away last minute and eat it himself.

_Disgusting_.

He promptly excused himself from his circle as he went of to pursue his lady love. As he approached her tent, he could hear the faint sounds of sobbing from inside. Not wanting to intrude, he "knocked" as best he could on the flap of the tent. "Freckles? Hey, you in there?"

"S-Sawyer? Don't come in!"

He rolled his eyes before entering anyway. He looked away politely as she frantically tried to wipe away her tears.

"I'm sorry… I'm being so stupid." She pulled out the large lily that Sun had weaved into her hair and twirled it in her fingers absently. He glanced over and satisfied that she had settled, strode over and wrapped her tightly in his arms, inhaling deeply as her head rested under his chin. He felt angry that Jack had hurt her. He was pissed off that she didn't seem to care that he would never hurt her like that. He bitterly wondered if she could ever cry like that over him. He knew that despite his best efforts, her feelings weren't going to change. He knew, because his feelings weren't going anywhere.

He growled, his hot breath, warm against her ear. "The doc… Jack. He's a moron that doesn't deserve you."

"You," he continued forcefully. "Are a goddess."

She pulled away from him, gazing intently at his rugged features. Her eyes filled with…what? Sympathy? Longing? Pity?

He didn't care anymore. All he knew was tonight, there was nothing he wanted more than to worship her, wholly and unselfishly. As each day passed, he was becoming feeling less and less sure confident that he would ever have the opportunity to prove his complete adoration and devotion. Everytime they consummated, the moment was never right. It was always impulsive, desperate, and over quickly. Just pure unbridled lust. Even the few times they'd kissed, they were never the best of circumstances. The first time, he'd conned her into it, and that was after being tortured. That time in the quarry, it was just a ruse to get a feel for the Others (at least, that's what she thought). But that's not all he felt for her, far from it. He didn't know if she would accept his gift, one he had been willing to give for a while now, but he had to try. He wanted to give himself to her completely, expecting nothing in return. She was too perfect, too exquisite, to not feel beautiful.

Gently, he laid her down onto her pallet, and she did not resist. He crouched down next to her, slowly guiding her out of her shirt. She still didn't resist. As he tossed it aside, he noticed the lily she had pulled out of her hair. Playfully, he traced a line with the silky petal along her cheek, down her neck, and across her collarbone. To his delight, she gasped.

He smiled in spite of himself. He looked at her indulgently. "Yer gorgeous, Austen."

She broke out into a congenial smile, squeezing his hand in hers. It was so tiny and delicate, but enough to send sparks flying up his arm. Gently, he slid his hand underneath the small of her back, slowly dragging his fingertips up her spine. They rested on the clasp of her bra. He looked at her one last time, his eyes filled with intention. She nodded, giving her permission for him to continue.

He swooped upon her, pressing his lips onto her neck, lathing her porcelain skin with his tongue. Skillfully he managed to undo her bra without ceasing his ministrations on her neck. With his free hand, he caressed her stomach, before bringing it up her side to meet its partner. Unhurriedly, he raised her arms over her head to slide the garment off. While her arms were in the air, he took care to kiss her fingertips, her palms, her inner wrists.

He worked slowly and meticulously, giving special attention to each crevice and dip of her body. He would drag his tongue down her skin, and then blow softly, eliciting shivers as the cool air evaporated off her body. He would draw languid circles in her flesh, and then barely trace his fingertips against her skin, sending ticklish waves across her body. He experimented with texture and pressure, his teeth, lips, tongue, hands all searching, exploring. Every now and then, he could feel her flinch and hear her gasp as he delved into some of her most sensitive spots. He immersed himself fully into the task, wanting his actions to express the emotion he could never articulate in words.

He did not dare look up, as he proceeded to plant a series of kisses from her sternum, down her navel, and finally rest on the string of her skirt. He glanced up, her eyes were peacefully shut, her chest and stomach rising and falling deeply. If she wanted him to stop, she gave no indication. Plying his fingertips underneath her waistband and panties, he slowly pulled down, watching intently as she slithered herself out of them. He could only look on transfixed, absently running his hand down the smoothness of her legs. Scooting down, he scattered kisses down her thighs and legs, before finally landing at her perfect feet. Kissing her toes lightly, he began to rub luxuriously on the fleshy pads on her soles. Pressing firmly with his thumbs, he massaged vigorous circles around her feet, eliciting a low moan.

"Mmm… please."

He was startled as he heard her voice for the first time. Looking up, he saw her eyes flutter open, peering at him, pleading. She repeated, hoarsely. "Please…"

Compelled to acquiesce to her wishes, he began to slide a hand slowly up her inner thigh, hovering at the junction. He hesitated, daring one last time to look up at her face. Her breaths had quickened, and she nodded fervently. Cautiously, he slipped two fingers between the folds of her lips, surprised by the eager wetness that awaited. Slowly, he inserted them deeper.

"Oh… James," she whimpered. He paused, surprised. He wasn't sure that he'd ever been intimate with a woman that knew his name. He found it strangely pleasant.

Satisfied that she really wanted him to continue, he slid down further in order to bring his lips to hers. He rested her legs on his shoulders as he slowly delved in. He kissed her cautiously, awkwardly at first. Quickly he pulled away, awaiting a reaction. When none came, he approached again, more confidently this time, and his tongue entered her. He lathed her almost tortuously slow, savoring her juices, feeling her pulsate against him. He breathed deeply, fully immersing himself into the single task of giving her his undivided attention.

He took his time, and he felt gratified as he began to feel her legs twitch involuntarily, beginning her ascent towards climax. He began to intensify his movements, as he felt her upper body shift suddenly. He stole a glance and saw that she had propped herself onto her forearms, and she was peering down at him curiously, eyes wide and bright.

Immediately he pulled back, feeling a nervous tightness in his chest. "I'm sorry…Didja want me to stop?"

"What?" She laughed musically, a healthy blush in her cheeks and a sheen beginning to develop on her forehead. "No, of course not." She lifted a hand to run her fingers through his straight straw-colored hair. "I just wanted to be able to see you… James."

He felt the tightness lessen slightly, but was now faced with the new problem of trying to make sense of this new reality. She was talking to him. Watching him. Calling his name. This time, tonight, she wanted _him_. He shook his head, having no idea how to begin digesting this information.

Sawyer looked up and saw her looking at him quizzically, without judgment, without guilt. Just desire. Desire for _him._ She pleaded, "Baby…please. I'm getting so close. Please don't stop." Her breathing was heavy and audible, her hair disheveled, her skin radiant. _God she looks beautiful_.

He nodded once before setting out to make love to her the way he had wanted to do since they were freed from the Others.

XxXxXxX

When it was over, she laid still for several minutes, a silly grin plastered on her face as she basked in the blissful afterglow of a satisfaction she hadn't felt in a far too long. She sighed contently, completely unmindful of her nudity. She exhaled deeply, physically spent after the much needed release. She rested her eyes for a moment, only to hear a rustling as he began to stir quietly.

She sat-up abruptly. "James?...Sawyer? You're not… leaving are you?"

He looked at her dumbly, obviously thinking that she had fallen asleep. "I was just gonna get some water." He shrugged and smiled, somewhat embarrassed. "My mouth gotta little dry…"

It was somewhat gratifying to see her genuine concern. "Don't worry, Austen. I'm not goin' anywhere." He squeezed her foot reassuringly, before exiting the tent.

She wrapped a sheet around herself tightly, listening intently for his footfall. It took longer than she thought, but sure enough, a few minutes later, he was back, just as he promised. Without saying a word, he slipped next to her, keeping in mind to stay on top of the sheet as to keep a barrier between them. It was ironic really, considering that it was just few minutes ago that he was giving her the most conscientious physical pleasure he had ever given to anyone in his life, he was still worried that sleeping next to eachother would be too intimate for her. He had spent so many nights watching her sleep, albeit behind bars, and it was almost painful to not be able to touch her when she was so close. Still, he made a point to stay on his side until she sidled up next to him, her sheet rubbing uncomfortably against his clothing. She burrowed her nose into his chest and she whispered, "Thank you, James" as she instantly fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: **That's the most graphic I get. Like I said, hopefully it was sexy and erotic, but not too trashy. Please feel free to let me know what you think either way. 


	3. Chapter 3

She felt the sunlight penetrating through the thin canvas of her tent. She blinked a few times as she tried to regain her bearings. She peered over her shoulder, Sawyer was fast asleep, fully clothed, in the exact position where she left him earlier that night. His mouth was slightly ajar, but he was resting peacefully. She had a sneaking suspicion that he made conscious efforts not to move for fear of disturbing her, and it made her smile.

"Sawyer…" She shook him gently by the shoulder.

"Mmm..." He moaned softly before rolling over on his side, resting his head on his arm.

She smirked, covering him with the sheet. She decided to let him get a little extra sleep as she got dressed and cleaned herself up for the day. She worked as quietly as she could to pull some fresh clothing from her duffel bag, not that it mattered because he was completely knocked out. She then tiptoed out to wash up by the communal water. Thankfully it was early enough that she didn't run into of the girls last night. She wasn't particularly in the mood to be answering any questions about her early departure, nor Sawyer's intervention. Hopefully, she figured if she just avoided everybody for long enough, the whole issue would just blow over.

When she got back to her tent, he was still fast asleep. She tried again, shaking him a little bit harder this time. "Sawyer, wake up!!"

His fluttered open, and for a moment he was disoriented, not recognizing his tent. "Where—" His eyes bolted wide open and he looked around wildly, only to have his gaze fall on her grinning face.

"Oh… right." He sunk back into the pillow. "Mornin' Freckles."

"Sorry I woke you up."

_No she's not. _

He stretched his arms upward. "It's alright, there're worse ways to wake up." He grinned at her lazily. "Is it time fer me to go home?" There was a touch of bitterness to his voice.

"I'm hungry." She replied, not really answering the question.

"Well… go get some breakfast then. Y'know where the pantry is. The Froot Loops are excellent this time of year."

"Nope. I want fruit… fresh fruit." She wrapped both of her hands around his wrist and tried to pull him to an upright position. "And yer comin' with me."

"Unh…" Sawyer tried to wipe the sleep out of his eyes with his free hand. Obviously, this was not how he had planned to spend his day. Not that he really had a plan for any of his days anyway.

"Oh come on, you're already dressed anyway."

When he didn't instantly respond she pouted, slightly hurt. "Please?"

_Dammit_.

He couldn't say no to her. He shrugged hopelessly. "Well, since ya asked so nice."

She broke out into a bright grin, and that enough to wake him up completely. She grabbed his hand, peeked her head out the tent, and then led him out. The fact that she felt compelled to check whether anybody would see them holding hands was not lost on him, but he really never expected any better. Still, there was something liberating about walking with her on _their_ island. He really had no idea where she was taking him, and he was never that good about situational awareness, so he just trusted that her tracking skills would eventually lead them back to the beach.

She didn't seem to have a specific destination in mind, but on the island it was a pretty safe bet if you followed the green, sooner or later you'd find fruit. They walked in a comfortable silence for several minutes, she seemed to have something on her mind and he didn't want to talk about it unless she brought it up. So dutifully he followed her through all the foliage and overgrowth.

Eventually they stumbled upon a hidden clearing that was concealed by tall palm trees that provided ample shade. Nearby there looked to be a couple mango and guava trees. By that time Sawyer actually had worked up an appetite from all the walking. They looked at eachother, nodding in silent agreement. He plopped himself down on a log and patted the spot next to her, signaling for her to sit down. She shook her head, pointing up at the foliage overhead. He shrugged, slightly bowing his head and opening his hands in a "Be my guest gesture." Inwardly, he was amazed how they could have a full blown conversation without sharing any words.

Deftly, she began to scale the nearest tree, skillfully feeling for all sorts of ridges and holes for handholds. When she reached a sufficiently sturdy branch, she began to baby-step her way to the edge, holding on to a higher branch with her hands to maintain balance. When she neared the leafy ends, she was able to reach a free hand to start feeling around a bunch of fruit, squeezing to find the ripest ones.

"You ready?" She shouted below her.

He gave her a high thumbs up.

She plucked two of the biggest ones she could find and unceremoniously dropped them without looking down, trusting he would catch them. Sure enough, when she glanced down, he was holding one in either hand.

Satisfied, she began to shimmy her way down, simply letting go and dropping down when she was a few feet from the ground. No sooner had she landed, Sawyer tossed her the bigger mango.

When she seated herself next to him, he was digging around in his pants for the pocket knife he always carried with him. He started to say "Allow me," as he unhinged it, but when he looked up she already had juice messily dripping down her chin. He chuckled softly, before pocketing the knife and taking a bite himself.

For a few minutes, they just ate quietly, occasionally slurping.

"Sawyer?" She started suddenly, wiping off some stray juice with the back of her hand. "Do you love me?"

He coughed, startled by her incredibly random and unexpected question. He exhaled sharply, looking down at his hands, playing with the large pit of the mango. He smiled sardonically, at a loss for words. She looked on curiously, apparently oblivious to how uncomfortable she was making him feel.

Slowly, he spoke up. "I think I already answered that question for you."

She shifted uncomfortably, breaking her eye contact with him. An incredibly pregnant silence followed, before he finally outburst, "C'mon Austen, are you actually gonna make me say it?"

She shook her head vigorously, thankful that he was talking again. After a moment, she followed-up to the unanswered question. "Why?"

He chuckled, unable to con his way out of this conversation. His shoulders sagged defeatedly, he looked at her and answered honestly, "You can't help who you love, Kate."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a prickle in her neck. "What… what'd you say?"

He repeated, slowly. "I said… you can't help who you love…" When he noticed she was now speechless, he quickly looked down and added, "Sorry."

When she realized that he thought he needed to apologize, she woke up a bit "No.. it's not that. It's just… that's what my mother would say to me."

He broke out into a congenial smile. "She sounds like a smart woman." He rolled his eyes innocently before adding, "If we ever get off this God-forsaken island, you should introduce us."

At that, they both broke into nervous laughter. "Heh…Don't think she'd be too happy about that."

He feigned offense. "What, why not? I don't have any weird tattoos or piercings like the midget rock star."

"It's not you, she'd love a good Southern boy like you." she answered. "I'm just not sure she'd like to see me again." The sheer honesty came unexpectedly, before she had a chance to stop herself her. Strangely, it felt raw to admit, but not completely painful.

He didn't know how to respond, so he just squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. It was strange to her. Here they were, talking about relationships and meeting eachother's parents as if they weren't stranded on an isolated island somewhere in the South Pacific. It was so weird and bizarre and yet, it felt completely natural.

"Sawyer… what is this?'

"What's what?"

"This!" She frantically waved a hand in the space between them. "You know… us."

He shook his head, unable to believe that she was bringing all of this up now, so suddenly and without warning. Fortunately, he already knew the answer to this one.. He sighed before looking at her straight in the eyes. "It's whatever you want it to be, Austen."

It was so sincere, so selfless, so simple. Too easy, she wouldn't accept it. "What do you want?"

"Unh..." He groaned exasperatedly, staring hopelessly at the sky. "Dontcha get it, Freckles? What I want don't really make a difference in this matter."

She was beginning to get angry again. Irrational, of course. But it was the only way she knew how to respond. "How can you say that? You don't mean that!" Hopefully, if she could get a rise out of him, she'd have an actual reason to be angry.

To her chagrin, he remained as calm and resigned as ever. "I can say it Freckles, and I'll tell ya why." He heaved his pit away into the bushes and wiped his hands on his jeans before continuing, "I never really thought that I deserved you."

She was about to retort, but he gave her a warning look before continuing. "Let's get one thing straight, I don't think he does either. But either way… sooner or later he's going to come to his senses and realize that you are ten times the woman that frigid blonde is. And then?" He shrugged.

She was too stunned to even deny it. He kept going. "The last few days, I've been on borrowed time. We both know that. So y'know, I figger, until that happens, I might as well enjoy whatever it is we're doin'. Cuz when it comes down to it Freckles, I'd rather be spending time with ya, even if I am bein' delusional or hurting inside, than not."

He shrugged at her one last time before focusing back at the ground, ashamed. Hopeless, dejected. She could feel the warmth welling in her eyes and blinked several times to fight them back. She sniffed audibly, unable to form any words.

"There ain't no need to waste any tears on me, Freckles."

She clasped a hand on her mouth, completely overwhelmed at how completely the man before her had bared his soul. Slowly, she approached him, kneeling down at his feet. The oddness of the position was not lost on either of them. Slowly, cautiously, she slid her hand into his, rubbing her thumb over the back of his knuckles.

She leaned in ever so slightly, her eyes open to catch any reaction. He didn't reciprocate, but he didn't try to move away either. His eyes were staring directly back at hers. He wasn't going to be the one to initiate. He gave no sign of encouragement or eagerness. Just hope.

She breathed softly, he could feel the warmth on his skin. She tilted her chin upward and for what felt like the first time, she kissed him. Softly, tenderly, she pressed her wet lips against his, her mouth parted slightly in invitation. He responded, but not without the slightest bit of hesitation, as if afraid that the wrong move might scare her away. She lingered just a moment longer before prying herself away. He did not resist. Their foreheads were touching, as they shared eachother's breath. She could feel his eyelashes tickle her skin as he blinked. It made her smile.

"Don't worry, James. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

**A/N:** And there it is folks. Hope it was enjoyable, not too fluffy. Either way, let me know what you think in your reviews. Just a random tidbit, the title sort of has a double meaning for me. Readers of my other story can attest, I'm normally not that fast a writer. But I was so worried that they would do something stupid next week, I spent most of the weekend writing this so I could sort of "beat the clock" before next episode. That is, at least until next Wednesday, Sawyer and Kate can live happily ever after in my dream world. Thank you for taking the time to read, and I hope you all liked it. 


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